Party Hard
by BobHasRainbowVeins
Summary: Clint drags Steve to a college party. Alcohol happens, Steve makes bad decisions, and Tony gets laid. Everyone hates waking up the morning after but hey, at least Steve's got a date to look forward to.


"You, my friend, are going to have the best night of your life," were the words Clint said to him as he led him into a room full of people chatting, drinking, and dancing. Steve could feel a heavy weight in his gut, warning him of what a bad idea this was. Still, it wasn't often that he got out and rid himself of his inhibitions in order to have a good time. It was just a party anyways, what was the worst thing that could happen?

The worst thing that could happen turned out to be Steve's high tolerance for alcohol. He and a dozen or two others sat around a table, bottles of pretty much any alcoholic drink they could think of. They encouraged Steve to drink them all in an attempt to get him drunk, cheering him on. He was apprehensive to do so at first, but with each drink, the next became easier to take and was gone faster.

It was his 6th drink, or maybe his 10th, that was something like whiskey infused with vodka. It tasted like shit, and burned all the way down, but he drank like a champ and his audience cheered. They drank in celebration as well, most of them drunk out of their minds to the point they could hardly walk, let alone stand. Steve was just at the point where he felt a little lightheaded, stomach warm. It was a good feeling, like being high or floating on nothing, and he couldn't help but enjoy it while it lasted.

The drinking continued to progress and at one point, Steve stood up from the table and made his way across the room, stumbling multiple times as people patted him on the back, pushed his shoulders, flirted and winked. Wherever he went, a crowd followed, ready to intoxicate him even more. He welcomed the alcohol, though, and the attention that came with it.

At some point, he found himself sliding down to sit on a couch in the corner of the room. He watched the blur of motion in front of his eyes as people laughed and swayed with each other. It almost reminded him of a mosh pit, though he'd never been exposed to such a thing, with the way people were dancing erratically, falling against each other, pushing and shoving good-naturedly. A single person in particular was struggling more than most, slowly being ejected from the crowd until he tripped and caught himself on the couch. Steve was startled to find the man suddenly on top of him, straddling his lap. He was ruggedly handsome, his dark brown hair a floppy mess. Steve could do nothing but stare and for several heartbeats, all the man did was stare back.

He couldn't focus on his surroundings, all his attention on the presence in front of him. The music faded out, becoming a steady beat of white noise. Steve drew in an unsteady breath, eyes flickering down to watch as the man drew his tongue quickly over his lips to wet them. Oh, this was such a bad idea. Too bad his brain wasn't clear enough to think.

Steve was prepared as the man shot forward, mouth mashing messily against his own. His hands immediately found their way to a pleasantly round ass, covered in tight, smooth leather. He could hear wolf whistles sound throughout the room, but he could've cared less, drowning the sounds out by creating his own, sucking the man's tongue sloppily as if to pull it right out of his mouth. His hands, full of leather clad ass, squeezed and kneaded, causing the man to squirm in his lap and moan unashamedly into his mouth. More wolf whistles sounded, encouraging them both, though they didn't really need it. The contact between them was a domino effect; one touch led to another, and it was impossible to stop.

The brunet's squirming turned into purposeful grinding, practically giving him a dirty lap dance. With every roll of hips, Steve felt himself grow harder in his pants, to the point it became uncomfortable. Noticing this, the man pulled away and, with a grin, reached down and grabbed Steve through his pants, gripping him firmly. Steve's jaw slackened, falling open at the added pressure.

His reaction caused a smirk to crawl on the brunet's face, and he squeezed harder, digging his nails, almost painfully, into his jeans. The added pressure made Steve choke for air. Having enough of his teasing, he pushed the brunet sideways so he was lying down and rolled on top of him, claiming his mouth once more. The man didn't seem to have a problem with the change though, bringing a knee up to rub against Steve's crotch. Steve growled in response, biting and sucking the man's jugular, his hands finding their way under his shirt, scratching at a lean, muscular stomach. The brunet arched into his touch, gasping at the slight pain. It drove him crazy apparently, and he responded by dragging his fingers through Steve's hair, tugging and pulling the short strands.

For a time, they were all kissing, biting, scratching, and grinding, with little else. They attracted a large crowd that cheered them on, whistling and shouting. At some point, there was a voice that yelled, "C'mon, shirts off! Rip 'em, rip 'em!"

The two paused for a moment, meeting each other's gaze steadily. The brunet opened his mouth to speak, his wrecked voice saying, "Oh, don't you dare rip this shir—" but Steve ignored him, grabbing the collar and tearing it all the way down. The man let out a cry of rage and immediately took to clawing Steve's shirt off of him with vigor unknown to him up to that point.

Their audience exploded in an uproar, as if watching sports and seeing their favorite team score points. Steve didn't mind them though, ignoring the noise in favor of mouthing the clear skin of his partner's chest. His body was wiry, covered in lean muscles and coarse brown hair. He nosed around the light chest hair until he found a dark nipple, taking it into his mouth, grazing it lightly with his teeth. The man writhed below him making it obvious how sensitive the area was. His reaction prompted Steve to suck harder , in turn making the man's voice reach high pitches as he thrashed back and forth.

"Twist his nipples, twist his nipples!" A few people from the crowd chanted, falling over each other laughing, enjoying the game the two on the couch had become.

Steve removed his mouth from the brunet's chest just in time to feel fingers find their way to his chest, taking hard nubs between them and twisting them harshly. Steve yelped, feeling electric like shocks shoot down his spine, spreading to the tips of his fingers. He panted, hoping for a moment to recover, but did not get one. He felt another twist, though not as rough as before, this time the shocks going straight to his groin where he was rocking against the brunet's leg in an attempt to relieve himself. Hands left his chest, travelling further down to his pants where one undid the button and zipper, the other pulling his cock out of his boxers. It twitched at the direct contact and both men moaned. The man's hand was still for a heartbeat before it began to work its way up and down, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive Steve crazy. He thrust his hips to the rhythm of the fist, getting lost in the tight slide.

The crowd gets loud again, though more conflicted about what they want. "Blow him!" "Finger his ass!" One voice rang clear, Steve recognizing its owner immediately. "_Fuck his brains out!_" Huh, that was Clint. He'd have to thank him after the party was over.

The brunet leaned in close, licking the shell of his ear before whispering, "Yeah big boy, fuck me. Do you have the guts?" causing Steve's brain to short-circuit. Nothing sounded more appealing than the tight warmth of the man's body. The thought was enough to make him a man on a mission. He sat back on his heels and got to work, tugging the brunet's pants off with much effort, shoes and socks coming off in the process. He tossed them on the floor and looked down at his prize. He was naked, save for the tattered remains of what was probably a rather expensive shirt, sprawled out gracefully before him. He was startlingly beautiful like that, and Steve wanted him more than ever.

A particularly sharp whistle sounded among the crowd and Steve sharply turned his head, just in time to catch packets that were thrown at him. Looking down into his hands, he found condoms and lube. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a blond guy giving him a thumbs up.

With everything he needed in hand, Steve set to work. He took his place back over the brunet, distracting him with his mouth as he tore open packets of lube, applied the slick to his fingers, and began to stretch him open. His partner gripped the sides of his face, holding him close as if he was afraid he'd leave. Or maybe he just loved the taste of Steve's mouth. Either way, it was a source of comfort as Steve's fingers rooted around inside of him, opening him up as best he could. It didn't take him long to find the hard spot in him that drove him crazy, allowing Steve to prep him more comfortably. By the time he was thoroughly prepped, the brunet was on the edge, practically sobbing for Steve to fuck him. Steve obliged, rolling a condom on with uncoordinated hands and using the rest of the lube to make himself slick.

Pressing into him was the best feeling in the world. The tightness was overwhelming, the heat driving him mad. Below him, the brunet was cursing left and right, his nails digging into Steve's back. Steve shifted his hips, thrusting slightly, and the man's voice grew louder, a good sign if he'd ever heard one. They soon got lost in each other. The room disappeared and the excited crowd faded away, nothing left but them and the couch. It didn't take long for Steve's thrusts to become frenzied, the brunet rolling his hips down to meet them. Their movements were sloppy, but well enough to get them off.

As Steve felt warmth gather in the pit of his stomach, he reached down and grabbed the brunet's cock, working his hand around it in time with his thrusts. At the added stimulation, his voice grew high and wobbly, signs of him reaching his peak. All it took was one squeeze of Steve's hand and it was over for the both of them, coming hard enough to wipe them out. Then again, maybe the alcohol was to blame.

They were both out and soon the crowd forgot about them and went on until the early hours of the morning. Someone was nice enough to throw a blanket over the two of them as they lay tangled in each other's limbs. The party slowly began to die off, most people passing out in various parts of the room. As for who would remember anything in the morning, only time would tell.

**-o-x-o-**

Never before had Steve had so much trouble opening his eyes. His head was screaming at him, aching all over. When he finally opened them, pain shot right behind them, burning them in their sockets. He winced and attempted to roll over, finding that his entire body ached. It wasn't until he found that he couldn't move that he remembered what'd happened. Turning his head slowly, his eyes met a sleeping face, every feature relaxed. He was young, maybe too young, and panic began to grow inside of Steve. Was he a minor? Was he even allowed to drink?

The way his body tensed must've disturbed the man lying half underneath him, as he scrunched up his nose before one chocolate brown eye popped open. Steve could imagine what a sight he was, tousled blond hair, blush-covered face, wide, crazed eyes. That could've been the reason why the man's other eye opened almost right away. They stared at each other in silence, the only noise in the room being the snores and few people waking up and complaining about hangovers.

Steve was the first to speak. "How old are you?"

The man raised an eyebrow at him as if to say '_are you really asking me that?'._ "I'm 19, gorgeous. Why, how old are you?"

"Oh, uh, 22," Steve replied hurriedly. _Well, at least he isn't a minor_.

Silence found its way between them once again, and Steve brought up another thing that had been bothering him. "What's your name?"

"Are we playing 20 questions or something? I'm Tony. And who are you, Mr. Big Blond and Beautiful?"

Steve swallowed heavily, nearly biting on his tongue. Tony. Tony was _flirting _with him. "Steve."

Tony blinked. "Steve, as in, Steve Rogers? Football fanatic, art guru, that Steve?"

"Um, yes, that's me," Steve replied, taken aback at Tony's recognition.

"Huh. It's just that I have a friend who apparently knows you, so I'm surprised we haven't met until now," Tony murmured, turning on his side away from Steve so he could stretch out his limbs. For a second, Steve was mesmerized by the way his shoulders flexed, and he couldn't stop himself from caressing the smooth skin gently with the backs of his fingers. Tony stiffened and Steve's hand immediately froze.

"Er…"

The man carefully rolled over so that he was on his side facing Steve. He looked Steve over once before speaking. "Y'know Steve, this is great and all, but you never have sex on the first date. Hell, you didn't even take me out to dinner."

Steve's mouth fell open in surprise and before he could say anything, Tony leaned in and kissed his lips, just the slightest of pecks, leaving Steve at a loss for words. "I…uh…can I make it up to you, then?"

Tony grinned, crawling on top of Steve, the blanket on top of them keeping them covered. "How about you make it up to me right now and _I'll _take _you _out to dinner this Friday?"

This man was going to be the death of him.


End file.
